


Kiss with Sin (Burn my Skin)

by Supervium



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Anal Fingering, Blood Drinking, M/M, Master/Servant, Minor Violence, Multiple Orgasms, OT12 - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Power Play, Shameless Smut, Some Plot, Temporary Character Death, Threesome - M/M/M, biting kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-30 15:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6430546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Supervium/pseuds/Supervium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The demon Junmyeon is bored one day and is challenged to replace the Elite Eleven--The Underworld's Best--because he may have been the one to destroy them. It won't be easy but it'll cure his boredom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. There's a Game (You're Mine to Claim)

**Author's Note:**

> (The relationship tags are in the order of how the chapters will be released, this chapter is Junmyeon and Wufan)

Boring. Insanely and utterly _boring_.

This _isn’t_ what he signed up for.

An eternity of wealth and beauty; of everything he could possibly want. Of _Anything you desire Junmyeon, you know, have I ever led you astray before?_ Bullshit.

The temperature in the modernly designed sitting room rises at least ten degrees. He taps his fingers petulantly against the glass holding his rum and coke, the ice cubes clinking against the crystal.

Maybe if he throws a fit and sets the room on fire it would make the bastard hurry the fuck up. Not that it would actually matter. The _Boss_ can create faster than he can destroy; which is a testament considering Junmyeon is _known_ as the most destructive.

Every ten minutes Junmyeon raises the temperature in the room—hoping to maybe melt the pipes or break some windows—until an attractive woman with long, straight black hair enters and announces that “The Boss” is available now.

Good.

Junmyeon smiles sweetly as he stands, brushing a hand over the shoulder of his suit and crushing the drink cup in his hand; a satisfying twinkle sounds as the shards of glass plink off the intricate tile of the waiting room.

He glides passed her without waiting for directions—it’s practically a second home to him—and towards the door directly to the left. It’s a deep crimson red that makes Junmyeon roll his eyes at the forced irony and he doesn’t stop to knock.

As always the man— _Boss, Master,_ or whatever the fuck his superior title is—is sitting behind an equally red desk, shined black leather shoes propped up and waiting.

“You demand a meeting and barge into my office because you’re _bored_.” He drawls, pretty lips quirking in amusement.

Junmyeon scoffs at the insult, “Isn’t it _your_ job to keep me entertained? All the limitations… I rather swim in lava than spend another second of my eternity under your control.” It’s a lie mostly but he needs leverage right now.

Dark maroon irises surrounded by a sea of black meet his—mirror his, since they’re exactly the same—and the amusement in them that agitates Junmyeon. “The _limitations_ are because you murdered exactly one hundred and thirty-two people in a single day. No cause, no cover, you just went and slaughtered them.”

“And?”

“Come now Junmyeon, even you know it’s a messy display.”

“Maybe because I spent half a century cooped up in _Hell_ , I’m sorry, I got a little carried away in my freedom.”

“You belong in Hell. Don’t act like you’ve had no fun here; I have to replace thousands of demons because you wanted to test your strength.” Is he flat response he gets.

 _They were worthless anyway_ , Junmyeon wants to snap, a tinge of jealousy in the thought. But he can’t. There’s a plethora of things he can do—executing an entire village of humans being one—and the only punishment he’ll get is a slap on the wrist and a _No realm switching for the next seven years._ However insulting any demon, no matter how weak, is a big mistake.

He did once, just to test the boundaries…

Torture is one thing Junmyeon enjoys immensely.

But when it’s _him_ being bleed out and skinned—literally—it’s not exactly on the list of _Weekend Activities Junmyeon has Planned_.

“Let me do something then.”

“Entertain yourself.”

“Fine I’ll just go and destroy Earth then. Adding that to my resume would be a nice touch don’t you think?”

“You’re a child.”

Junmyeon shrugs, straightens his tie, and goes to leave. He doesn’t _do_ empty promises and there are at least twenty creative ways to bring down an entire planet. Genocide is a good one.

“You want something to do?” His Master mutters, scowl deepening when Junmyeon turns around with a smirk, “Replace the demons you destroyed.”

At the suggestion Junmyeon gives a scowl of his own, “A dime a dozen. That’s not fun, it’s just work.”

“You haven’t heard my rules yet,” He waits to be sure Junmyeon is listening, “They cannot be evil,” Junmyeon scoffs, “And they have to _willingly_ give themselves up. No tricks, Junmyeon, offer them what I offered you and see if you can convince them.”

“How many?”

“You killed the Elite Eleven, that’s a good number.”

Junmyeon takes a moment to contemplate. It’s an interesting offer; a good game. One that can’t be won too easily but one that isn’t strictly impossible either. It’s also _work_ and if he gets bored he knows he won’t be able to just back out of it; he’ll be stuck until he finishes.

“What do I get if I do it?”

He meets red irises again and they’re filled with open disgust; Junmyeon snorts, like he was going to do this for _free_ just to atone for his boredom.

“You’re despicable.”

“And _you’re_ actually Satan. I don’t think name calling will get us very far.” Junmyeon muses, trying—and succeeding—to grate on his sire’s nerves.

A hand rakes through perfectly styled inky hair and a sigh fills the air, “You’ll take control of them; lead them. They’ll be yours anyhow. The Elite Twelve will rise,” A side glance, “Hopefully stronger than the last.”

It’s this offer that makes Junmyeon r _eally_ pause. Be in control of a group of elite demons; ones that _he_ picks and have the title of Elite Twelve. The Elite were the only ones—besides the Master of course—who were above Junmyeon. The new ones would be below him, _owned_ by him.

The corners of Junmyeon’s mouth curl, his pointed white teeth slightly visible as he nods. “They’ll be much stronger.”

A sound of affirmation and a mirrored smirk the man snaps his fingers, theatrics always in play, and a contract materializes in front of Junmyeon, much like the first time he sold his soul.

This time, however, he’s sure to skim over the bloody font looking for any chains that might bind him further. There isn’t any, not even a single failure clause. It’s odd but oh well. A stroke of his finger has Junmyeon’s name written beautifully on the signature line.

It vanishes and he gets a murmured, “Good luck” before he’s teleported away.

 

~~~

 

Earth’s atmosphere is much cooler than what he’s used to but it doesn’t bother Junmyeon as the wind picks up and blows his scarf slightly askew. He’s too busy examining the humans who walk by, trying to locate at least _one_ who would possibly fall into his trap. It’s also amusing; the way they look at him.

In all fairness humans can’t stand very cold temperatures and Junmyeon is sitting on the park bench dressed in an attractive black button down and grey silk scarf. It might look strange but it draws attention and he likes it. Not like he cares if the humans can’t tolerate fifteen degree weather, he sure can. And he isn’t too thrilled about trying to fit into one of those ugly winter jackets that make even the most attractive people look like marshmallows.

Junmyeon smiles at a woman as she passes, his now-rectangular _human_ teeth gleaming in the sunlight. She looks surprised at first and then walks slightly faster as a blush spreads along the bridge of her nose; how cute.

He’s not looking for cute though, he’s looking for a certain darkness. A curtain that would signify something more akin to sadness or depression than the vapor of evilness. Junmyeon, if anyone, would know how those emotions warp the mind, change desires and make a person crave happiness again.

And Junmyeon, being the giving person— _demon_ —he is, is here to give nothing but happiness.

The city itself seems to be covered by a thick smoke of depression but none of the people have quite lived up to his expectations yet.

Well, haven’t meet the _criteria_ yet.

Oh wait a minute. Junmyeon doesn’t feel sadness but he senses anger; not the usual human-blurry-they-got-my-order-wrong-anger, but _fury_. Junmyeon’s normal brown eyes shift to the left just in time to see a very tall and handsome man stomp passed. When he goes to beam at the human he gets a glare and snarl in return and Junmyeon almost claps his hands gleefully. Perfect.

He chuckles to himself as the human continues on; briefcase swinging violently and hot coffee sloshing dangerously against the uncovered rim of the to-go cup. Would be a shame if—whoops, never mind. The scolding liquid runs over with the next step and the steady cursing that follows makes Junmyeon laugh out loud; loud enough to where the man sends a deadly glare at him.

Junmyeon just winks and keeps eye contact as the human walks off, still fuming.

Maybe this will be better than he originally thought.

Good thing Junmyeon doesn’t have to follow the rushing man—as he already knows where he’s going—because it a matter of seconds he’s already gone, lost in the crowd crossing the street. Business people were always a good target; they usually like power, are stressed and easy to anger.

Junmyeon stands and straightens his scarf as the wind tries to fling the material from his neck. In all honestly he should have studied the man harder when he had the chance; he knows where the man is headed but didn’t have enough time to pry the man’s name from his mind. It would have been convenient but he’ll learn all he needs soon enough. All he has to do is find the place.

He attracts even more eyes as he walks through the streets of Seoul, some in concern of his light clothing and an equal amount mentally taking them off, but Junmyeon doesn’t have time to revel in the admiring glances. He’s excited to find the building—and his target—because he wants to get the game started.

As he walks he scans the hundreds of people he goes passed—flicking through mind after mind—looking for directions and soon enough he comes to a skyscraper. The interior is nice; the reception area enclosed by glass walls and filled with simple white furnishings and flowers. A young man is sitting behind the counter, looking bored out of his mind, and he stands when Junmyeon approaches.

“Hello sir, how can I help you?” He asks, eyes roving slowly over Junmyeon’s body until they make their way back to his face, holding a light that wasn’t there before and a shy smile spreads across his lips.

Junmyeon leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk and tilts his head to look up at the man—making a show of it and appreciating when he has his full attention. “Actually I’m here for a meeting, but I’m unsure of where to go.”

The man’s face contorts with sympathy as if Junmyeon was a lost bunny and offers to look up the name of the person he is supposed to be meeting with. This is a problem but instead of changing his story Junmyeon’s eyes grow a shade darker, the pupils expanding slightly and a slow smirk forms on his lips.

“I’m not sure of his name,” The receptionist is confused for a moment—and distracted by the pink of Junmyeon’s mouth—before the demon continues, voice lower now and tinted with power, “We’ve only met briefly and he left before introducing himself.”

The man gulps, visibly affected by the sudden heat in Junmyeon’s gaze, “If you can’t remember his name I can’t look up the meeting-”

“You see, it’s a _personal_ meeting,” Junmyeon doesn’t even have to touch the man—his desk plate says ‘Sanghyuk’—to feel the sudden desire layering the air and it makes him grin wider; humans are fun.

There’s a minute and a half of the now pink-faced receptionist trying to stutter through a response and maybe Junmyeon had abused his power a _tad_ much but the resulting embarrassment is amusing. It’s almost a shame when Sanghyuk finally pulls himself together and whispers, “I can help if you describe him to me.”

“Tall, dirty blond hair, handsome. He was probably late to work today,” He pauses to wink for effect, “Most likely scowling.”

The flustered man thinks for a moment before his eyes widen, “Are you sure?” There’s a tinge of fear in the question that fills Junmyeon with excitement.

“Absolutely.”

“I, uh, can’t send you up there,”

“Why not?” Junmyeon has been conversing long enough to know who he’s looking for now—a certain Wu Yifan—and where his office is but curiosity forces the question out before he can stop it.

Sanghyuk pulls at his collar, “He’ll be angry, I could get fired.” He looks sympathetic again, like he’s afraid to disappoint Junmyeon.

He’s discernibly nervous, Junmyeon can see—he has that effect on a lot of people, humans and demons alike—so to put the mortal’s mind at ease Junmyeon places a soothing hand over Sanghyuk’s own. It’s interesting to watch his face flush crimson and then fade as the forced calm of Junmyeon’s creation takes over. Who says demons can’t be compassionate?

“I’m going to go up now,” Junmyeon’s eyes completely expand to black as he continues to replace the secretary’s temporary surprise and fear with peace, “If he asks, I’ll tell him I already knew my way. Okay?”

Sanghyuk nods slightly, gaze fixated on Junmyeon’s as the suggestions sink in and plant themselves in his mind.

It’s easy to slip away from the human; leaving him dazed, Junmyeon heads to the elevator, a small voice sounds in his thoughts, _no tricks,_ but he brushes it away with a chuckle. No tricks on his _target,_ Junmyeon decides, as he presses the button for the thirty-second floor. He gets one last look at the receptionist before the doors close and perhaps after he claims Yifan he’ll be back for Sanghyuk—not that he’d make the cut, too innocent, but maybe for some fun.

The ride is quick and much like he was walking through the halls of Hell Junmyeon struts toward Wu Yifan’s office door, pushing it open and closing it behind him.

A bit boring, Junmyeon decides, as he observes his surrounding and finally looks to the handsome man seated behind the desk. He hadn’t gotten a good look before and now as he sees a sharp jawline, plush lips, and thick eyebrows, Junmyeon knows he’s made a good decision.

A split second later turns Yifan’s expression from surprised to the same anger Junmyeon had first seen him with.

“You.” He accuses, shoulders tensing like he’s preparing for a fight.

Unfortunately if there _were_ going to be a fight, Yifan—even with his advantage of height and weight—would definitely not win.

Junmyeon chuckles at the taller’s sour look, “Me.” The demon agrees, slouching into the leather couch set against the wall.

“What are you…? Did you follow me?”

“In a way.”

Glaring, Yifan reaches for the phone and Junmyeon temporarily redirects the power for the phone line into an overflow socket. A full minute of Yifan trying to connect to reception—and then security—passes and Junmyeon grows tired of watching his handsome face contort in a variation of confusion, anger, and the like.

“Even if you keep trying it won’t work.” Junmyeon muses patiently, observing his future servant eye him with irritation.

Yifan tries contacting security one more time before standing and heading towards the door. Junmyeon rolls his eyes and clicks the lock into place with a flick of his index finger, sealing over it with a thin barrier to make sure Yifan can’t unlock it.

“What the fuck,” The human growls and rattles the handle violently, trying to jostle the door open but to no avail. Yifan will have to learn obedience anyway, might as well start now.

Junmyeon gets up and stretches nonexistent kinks from his muscles, it would be _very_ easy right now to sink his teeth into Yifan’s exposed neck, take the blood and exchange it for his own. Just as easy as it would be to snap the man’s neck afterward, but he _can’t_. Because _there are rules_.

“If you calm down for a moment you’ll know why I’m here.”

“I don’t care-” Yifan grunts as he tries to force the door open, “Why you’re here. You need to _fucking leave_.”

The demon has to stop himself from physically making Yifan submit to him—which seems like it would be a fun thing to do, considering the human is slightly sweaty now, already tight shirt clinging to his muscular back and lust flashes quickly in Junmyeon’s mind—because he knows that would be against the rules.

He can’t stop himself, however, when one his hands reach out to trace the human’s spine and Yifan jolts with surprise and turns around. Junmyeon won’t go against the rules but that doesn’t mean he’s going to wait much longer. Even if Yifan doesn’t end up in the Elite Twelve, Junmyeon wants him.

Darkness floods Junmyeon’s eyes as he stares, unblinking, at Yifan; who mumbles out _What the fuck?_ and freezes. It’s the power in his gaze that keeps the taller in place.

“You’re going to sit now and listen to what I have to say.” Junmyeon murmurs, suggests, but Yifan makes the right decision and plants himself immediately on the couch. Despite the change in mood, Junmyeon smiles at the sudden compliance and sits casually beside him.

“What do you want?” The blond asks warily when the air fills with silence and the demon responds by coolly running a hand through the sandy locks, the urge overcoming him.

Blackness has swallowed Junmyeon’s eyes and when he smiles again he feels that his teeth have reverted back to their natural pointed state. The changes seem to put Yifan on edge so Junmyeon tries to rein in control of himself; blinking a few times to clear his eyes and failing to square his teeth—which isn’t a surprise due to the fact he really wants to bite right now, desire getting in the way.

He has to get permission first _then_ he can bite.

 _No tricks_ , Junmyeon has to remind himself fervently and takes a deep breath, “I want you.”

This stuns Yifan, his mouth hanging open and thick eyebrows furrowing. Junmyeon follows the movement of a tongue wetting suddenly dry lips and his eyes go black again.

“What are you?” The man asks suddenly, pulling back and away from the small hand still petting through his hair, observing the way Junmyeon seems to be staring at nothing and everything all at once with a cold panic curling in his stomach.

“Me?” Junmyeon inquires, voice lower as he suddenly grips the human’s shoulder and uses the leverage to pull himself forward onto the latter’s lap, “I’m a demon,” He whispers, tilting his head to stare deep into the other’s eyes and grin, the top row of his fangs sinking into his plush lower lip.

Yifan’s reaction is much like Junmyeon’s own when his Master had approached him the first time. The taller’s back is completely straight and he looks like he’s scared shitless; which though faintly amusing, isn’t what Junmyeon wants. He doesn’t have the patience to wait on Yifan like he himself was waited on. He prefers to get his way _quickly_.

“Don’t be afraid,” The demon soothes, “I’m not here to hurt you; I have an offer.”

 “Yes, because accepting anything from a _demon_ is a good idea,” Yifan scoffs stiffly, sweat beading along his hairline.

It’s time to change his approach, since no progress is being made, so instead of replying immediately Junmyeon arches his back and sighs loudly. The innocents card never really suited him but he _wants_ Yifan and if this is what it takes… well, Junmyeon is shameless really.

“Fine,” He grumbles and burrows his face into the blond’s neck, lingering there and ignoring the nervous shiver he gets in response, “Will you at least hear me out?”

“You locked me in my office, cut the phone lines, and you’re sitting on top of me. Do I have a choice?”

Junmyeon might be a _tad_ impressed by Yifan’s ability to hang onto his sarcasm but he brushes the thought off and shakes his head slightly, digging his nose into the junction of Yifan’s neck and shoulder before pulling away to take in the human’s expression. He doesn’t look terrified anymore—which is a plus—and Junmyeon can feel the hint of curiosity burning beneath Yifan’s warm skin.

“I can give you things,” Junmyeon duplicates the exact lines he was told all those years ago, his tone taking on a promising edge, “anything you want.”

A jolt of greed accompanies the next question, “Why me?”

“Why you?” The demon repeats leaning in closer so they’re face to face, breath mingling, “Because I _chose_ you.”

There’s no reaction to Junmyeon’s statement but a moment later the glint in Yifan’s chocolate eyes tells him that he’s won. As does the tingling where Junmyeon is gently resting his palm against the other’s neck; it’s a magnetic force pulling them together, much like the one that every so often pulls Junmyeon to see his Master—to long for him.

“I’m selling my soul for money.” The human mutters—like he can’t believe what’s happening—and a large hand settles on the small of Junmyeon’s back.

“There’s more than just money.” Junmyeon reminds, bending to breathe the words just below Yifan’s ear, “Power, wealth, property, immortality, women, men, _anything_.”

As Junmyeon speaks he can feel the invisible link connecting them grow stronger.

This is likely the most dangerous effect when talking with a demon; a person doesn’t have to fully give themselves over to establish a bond. The tie activates as soon as the human begins listening and it starts breaking down the unconscious barriers inside them, silently making them more susceptible to whatever silver words are whispered. It’s a predatory trait all demons possess.

 _And poor Yifan,_ Junmyeon thinks in glee, lips curling upward and not an ounce of sympathy in sight, _He belongs to me now._

Out loud—for formality reasons—Junmyeon asks in the softest tone if Yifan is sure about his choice. There’s hesitation but the man nods and voices an affirmation.

The bond between them solidifies and when the demon pecks Yifan lightly on the lips he feels a strong pang of desire from the human. It’ll be a constant for a while—Junmyeon knows—the need to be with each other; the need for Yifan to be with his master and vice versa.

So Junmyeon indulges them both by carding his hand through the other’s hair, nails dragging gently along his scalp and pulling an abrupt moan from plush lips. He can feel the slight confusion thrumming off Yifan under the tips of his fingers and know he’ll have to answer some questions later on about the sudden attraction. Presently, though, the large hands resting against his hips are dragging him closer—further up onto the human’s lap—and distracting him.

Junmyeon is pleased with himself as one of Yifan’s hands begins trailing under his shirt and Yifan cants his pelvis to grind upward, grunting lowly. The same man who hated his guts only this morning and is now hard and impatient for the demon to do something about it; yes Junmyeon is _very_ pleased with himself.

“I want you to remember,” Junmyeon whispers airily into Yifan’s ear, grazing the lobe with sharpened teeth, possessiveness washing through him, “You belong to me now. My name is Junmyeon but you will only address me as Master. Understand?”

The half crazed light in the taller’s eyes and the immediate nod sends a thrill of pleasure straight to Junmyeon’s cock. He’s never had a blood servant before—no one who truly belonged to him—and the feeling of this new power is dizzying. The next kiss is mostly sharp teeth and tongue; Yifan trying to dominate even as he melts further into Junmyeon’s touches.

They kiss for a while, Junmyeon going purposefully slow and grinning deviously whenever Yifan mumbles something akin to a complaint, and the latter finally seems to tire of the game as he bites down hard on Junmyeon’s bottom lip. It draws blood and the coppery taste and spike of pain make Junmyeon moan loudly.

“You said you wanted me,” Yifan says, voice deep and impatient, “why do you keep stopping me?” He’s referring to the multiple attempts he had made to undress the demon and was halted, mostly because Junmyeon had wants to see how far he could push him before he breaks.

Pulling back and taking in the human’s appearance, Yifan looks like he had a rough night before coming to work. His sandy hair is tousled, top buttons of his stark white shirt unbuttoned and tie loose, eyes glazed and mouth kiss-swollen and red. He looks much better like this.

“Maybe if you ask nicely,” Junmyeon shrugs a shoulder and runs a finger down along Yifan’s exposed collar bones, catching another button and pulling it free. Irritation echoes through they’re bond and Junmyeon smiles as he teases, popping yet another button and revealing a defined chest and peaked nipples.

Yifan will _not_ beg, he’s not the type. He can’t, however, contain the sound when Junmyeon roughly tugs one of the peaked buds and rolls it between his fingers, grinning like a maniac. Or when he frees Yifan of his shirt _finally_ and uses his other hand to trace abs and simultaneously grinds his ass against Yifan’s throbbing dick.

Junmyeon toys with the waistband of Yifan’s trousers next, untucking the white shirt and sliding deft fingers just under the elastic of the human’s boxers.

“Fuck,” Is the growled response and dark eyes are glaring into Junmyeon’s own, want written there as well as under their owner’s skin, “Just do it already.”

“Hmm, do what?”

Yifan sucks in a sudden breath as Junmyeon strokes him through his slacks and his head falls against the back of the couch, exposing a glistening sweat covered neck. “Anything, just do anything.”

Junmyeon can be cruel and take the words literally, perhaps get up and feint walking out but he’s put the poor man through enough and his own cock is beginning to throb. His movements quicker now due to his own impatience, Junmyeon strips himself and Yifan quickly. He’s back on Yifan’s lap in under a minute, leaving the latter’s head spinning, and forcefully licking his way into the blond’s mouth.

They both moan as Junmyeon sucks on the other’s tongue, tasting the desire as well as feeling it. A hand begins messaging Junmyeon’s ass lower and lower until a finger is pressed against his puckered hole, probing.

“Is that what you wanted?” Junmyeon half-moans and tries to smirk as he shifts back and breaches himself, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Yifan swears and nods, fucking his dry finger further into Junmyeon as the demon arches.

Before Junmyeon loses himself completely he steadies himself with a hand in Yifan’s sweaty hair, tugging to pull him forward and whispers, _demands_ , “What do you say? What do you say to your master?”

The wrecked, “Please,” that leaves Yifan’s lips is enough.

Junmyeon’s tone takes on a commanding edge as he praises the sudden docile attitude and it makes Yifan shudder, even if he’s not the one about to get fucked. They don’t take the time to stretch or get lube—a trick Junmyeon picked up a long time ago—and the pleasure spikes down their spines as Junmyeon sinks down on Yifan’s curved cock, splitting himself open.

The friction is raw and each time Junmyeon lifts himself he can feel every inch inside, catching and pulling against his warm walls. It’s been a while since Junmyeon had allowed himself to be fucked but the feeling of being filled outweighs any complaints he has as Yifan begins meeting his thrusts, planting his feet on the ground for a better angle.

Junmyeon growls as the blunt tip of Yifan’s dick presses against his prostate and grinds down harder, faster. Yifan grips his waist with bruising fingers and slams Junmyeon down, groaning as he cock slides even deeper into the tight heat.

The brutal pace and uncontained lust flowing through their bond has Junmyeon losing control quickly; his eyes are engulfed completely in black, making them look as if they aren’t even there, and his teeth have extended from his gums to dig into his lips, thin trails of blood running down his chin. Demonic possessiveness makes an appearance next as Yifan rakes his dull human nails down Junmyeon’s back—leaving behind burning lines of pleasure—and the latter howls before digging talons into the taller’s shoulder, piercing skin and blood bubbling around them.

It would hurt if it was anyone other than Junmyeon doing it but Yifan is his servant now and he automatically responds by moaning and thrusting erratically, the pain spiking down his nerve endings straight to his dick.

Junmyeon harshly tweaks one of Yifan’s nipples as he feels the tightening in the other’s abdomen and smirks sadistically at the crimson, bruises, and scratches marring the blond’s otherwise perfect skin. Yifan thrusts one last time before he’s coming, grasping as Junmyeon grinds and rolls his hips down as warm cum fills him.

The demon comes then too, bouncing frantically and leaning forward to bite brutally into the human’s neck, tearing the flesh and tasting sweet blood that’s been calling to him; drinking the last bit of purity Yifan’s soul will ever hold. The latter jerks, boneless, and moans as Junmyeon continues to slowly ride him through his orgasm and licks at his throat, feeling nothing but a sleepy pleasure from having satisfied his master.

Once Junmyeon has taken enough blood he punctures his own wrist and brings it to Yifan’s mouth. The blood exchange is an important part to siring as opposed to just making another demon and Junmyeon has to coax Yifan into taking enough before he passes out from the loss.

He pulls his wrist away a minute later, thin rivets painting Yifan’s mouth red, and Junmyeon licks them away. The human gives his a small smile before the poison of Junmyeon’s blood pulls him into darkness.

The sudden instinct to care for Yifan strikes Junmyeon and he knows it’s their connection solidifying permanently. It’s with great care Junmyeon takes the next step and snaps the man’s neck. He’ll be back soon—reborn.

Satisfaction courses through Junmyeon as he looks over his prize with an almost tender gaze.

One down.

Ten to go.


	2. Maybe it's Fate (Or Maybe it's my Trait)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The relationship tags are in the order of how the chapters will be released, this chapter is Junmyeon and Sehun)

It’s a week later than Junmyeon is confident enough to leave Yifan alone. Despite their first encounter the new demon was actually very good at following instructions and wasn’t any trouble at all. After recovering from his broken neck and awakening as a new fledgling, Yifan took everything in stride; listening to the limitations on his powers, how he would need to sleep often for the first few weeks, and various other lessons that were required.

The only problem that had arisen was earlier when Junmyeon mentioned that Yifan wouldn’t be alone for very long. Even after explaining he was in charge of creating a new legion of demon warriors—which Yifan was now a part of—the latter didn’t want to hear it. Junmyeon definitely didn’t expect the wave of possession that overtook the younger demon when he mentioned others, not that he didn’t understand it.

Sharing wasn’t a strong suit of any underworld creature and Yifan was still young, his attachment to Junmyeon stronger because of his age. Of course he wouldn’t want to share.

But Junmyeon, after taking as much complaining as he could, had snapped and ordered Yifan to stop his tantrum throwing. It had worked—expectedly—but the man had pouted afterward and left the room to sulk elsewhere.

It was endearing but Junmyeon had other things to worry about than an upset twenty-five year old demon.

He hadn’t been back to Earth since he had taken Yifan and the weather had gotten warmer, resulting in a whole new pool of humans to choose from. The park was a favorite of Junmyeon’s but everyone there was just _too_ happy, enjoying the new spring and forgetting all of life’s worries.

It wasn’t helpful.

Currently, though, it didn’t matter. Junmyeon has been following a black curtain of depression for around ten minutes but he hasn’t been lucky enough to pinpoint its owner in the flow of mortals. There is just too many people around and shifting through all of their minds would cause Junmyeon to lose the track.

The excitement Junmyeon felt as he was chasing down his next target quickly dissipates when a hospital comes into sight. It vanishes completely when the trail leads directly through the doors.

Being a demon, Junmyeon has done some despicable things. Slaughter, theft, defaulted a major corporation, started wars, assassinated kings, taken empires over, tons of fires but he’s never personally targeted a hospital. They’re easy targets for fun—he’s heard—full of helpless humans on their way out anyhow, no one that would be missed unexpectedly.

Hospitals just happen to be a sore spot.

Not that Junmyeon has ever been to a modern hospital, but they have the same precognitions as the nurse houses of old. Mortals go there and they either die or they sit in pain for weeks and then get better.

Except Junmyeon. He _did_ sit in pain for weeks—months—and was _supposed_ to die, but it wasn’t any of the doctors that cured him.

He’s not exceptionally guilty as he sits down to wait. The building is a festering house of pain and agony but unlike most times it doesn’t make Junmyeon smile; if anything it creates a rolling anxiety in the pit of his stomach he hasn’t felt in decades.

An hour and a half later Junmyeon thinks he should leave, give up and go find a different target. He runs a hand through his dark hair, tugging at the roots and stands.

A small part of him wants to wait because _You know what hope feels like, so easy to take advantage._ It’s this sentence that pulls Junmyeon to a stop right as the clinical doors slide open and a fresh wave of depression mixed with anger spills out. It matches the same aura Junmyeon had felt earlier.

However the human doesn’t look ill, a bit thin and perhaps tired, but not sick. He’s tall and perfectly expressionless, inky locks falling over serious eyes that stare straight ahead even as he accidentally bumps into Junmyeon in passing and apologizes in a quiet monotone. Only when their arms brush can Junmyeon feel death slick on the mortal’s skin, a coy blanket that sticks like moss.

Is it really him giving off the emotions?

Usually humans aren’t subtle with feelings and Junmyeon has learned over countless years how to read a person simply by looking at them—without using mind reading. It’s just strange how this man could remain perfectly stoic when there’s a rage of emotions radiating from him.

Following him is easy—a black cloud permeating the air in his wake—and on the walk Junmyeon learns that Oh Sehun is terminally ill. With what he cannot tell, however, in Sehun’s angry thoughts he picks up the tendrils of pain lacing every movement and a tinge of regret in each step.

The boy—he’s younger than Junmyeon originally expected, in his early twenties—leads him to a cheap part of the city, buildings squished together with chipped paint and rusted fire escapes. The demon hides in an alley connected to the apartment complex Sehun enters, his home, and waits.

With the dark thoughts, Junmyeon doesn’t get much information from the human’s mind other than general directions on how to get to a battered door that looks about ready to fall off the hinges. It’s a little irritating how shadowed Sehun’s mind is, Junmyeon unable to break through the emotions and pain that constantly flicker to the forefront.

Once the tall boy leaves—dressed in dark, tight clothing now—Junmyeon goes up and lets himself into the apartment. It’s almost completely empty.

There are imprints on the rug where furniture used to be but the only thing in the entire flat is a single mattress in the bedroom and a box of clothes. Junmyeon may not have been a human for very long, but he's sure they still require food and water to survive.

A box of stale cereal sits in the cupboard, a hole eaten through by rats, and the taps, when turned on, trickle an eroded brownish-red before sputtering out air.

Cars honk and the neighbors shout for hours. Junmyeon is tempted to go across the way and strangle the drunk father who beats his son just to get the man to shut the fuck up for a minute. The impatience is waring and the demon berates himself for not paying attention to when the human was going; if he knew it was going to take this long Junmyeon would have tagged along.

Only twenty minutes later does a familiar depressing presents radiate through the walls, darker than most of the other tenants combined.

Junmyeon expects the usual, “Why the fuck are you in my house?” or even a, “How did you get in?” when Sehun opens the door and locks eyes with him.

What he doesn’t expect is a slightly hysterical laugh that bubbles from drunk lips.

“If you’re trying to rob someone you came to the wrong place buddy.”

Junmyeon quirks his lips as the ill smell of alcohol, sweat, and sick hits his nose, “I’m not here to steal from you.”

Sehun surveys him, up and down, blurry mind processing the words slowly and then an even more twisted chortle startles the quiet of the room, “If you’re looking for someone to kill you came to the wrong place, death’s already knocking at the door.”

The sentence is bitter but the crushing weight that undertones them is sorrow.

In a way Junmyeon pities the human, relates to him. The boy doesn’t want to die even as he jokes about his impending doom. Under the liquid fire in Sehun’s veins he’s more afraid than angry now, trying to drown himself in what comfort he can find.

Junmyeon, when he was mortal, never had the opportunity to indulge in anything. Liquor, drugs, riches, materials, physical pleasures; all were stowed away, taken by those with more power. It’s why Junmyeon offers what he does, anything anyone could possibly want. It’s why he was so quick to take the very same offer when it was given to him.

The sufferings of humans don’t faze Junmyeon. But this boy is… too similar to himself. Instead of teasing or making a show, Junmyeon remains completely serious.

“I’m not here to kill you either.” Permanently.

Sehun’s gaze shifts into trepidation and his lips twitch, “You could’ve saved me a lot of suffering.” He says without humor.

“I can still save you from your suffering.”

“Don’t fuck with me.” The taller growls, raking a hand through his hair and coming away with a handful of loose strands. He lets them fall to the ground with a disgusted glare.

Junmyeon follows the movement as everything clicks into place and then settles his dark stare back into the younger’s eyes. “You have a terminal cancer and not very much time left. I can help you.”

The promise had the opposite effect the demon was going for and Sehun’s mood sours further. He knows better now to believe someone offering faux hope. “You can’t do anything.” He snaps, “I have fucking _three_ months. Even if you had all the money in the world it wouldn’t matter.”

“I’m not offering money.”

Sehun goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a beer, scoffing. He doesn’t say anything as he hops to sit on one of the bare counters and sips at the amber liquid, wincing as pain swirls in his gut before being washed over by warmth.

The lack of response irks Junmyeon as the human stares off into space, “Do you want to hear my offer or not?”

“There isn’t anything you can do.”

“I can do more than you think.”

Sehun laughs again bleakly, “Sure. The doctors said that too. So unless you can work miracles,” He gestures to the door, sloshing the beer onto the brim of the can, “I kinda wanna die in peace, thanks.”

“I can cure you,” Junmyeon says, deciding to just reveal everything and let the drunk man decide for himself, “You won’t even need to worry about your health again. You won’t be susceptible to ailments and you’ll live a very long time. You won’t grow brittle with age; you’ll be stronger—better—than ever before.”

The human is getting visibly nervous, one part wanting to believe and the other knowing it’s too good to be true. “Get out,” Sehun mutters, all bravado gone from his features.

Junmyeon takes a moment to think; he’s not going to leave but there has to be a way to convince the boy. He cannot _show_ Sehun anything, lest it be counted as a trick. Usually Junmyeon pushes until he gets what he wants, however, he’s concerned on how Sehun would handle being pushed. Even drunk the boy seems to be on the hairline of breaking down.

Walking forward slowly, the demon plucks the now empty can from the taller’s shaking fingers and throws it off to the side, disregarding how Sehun winces. He places a calming hand on the latter’s knee and tries to push the feeling onto Sehun. Hopefully this doesn’t qualify as a trick, considering it isn’t being used to sway the human into making a decision.

After a minute Sehun slumps forward—anger, fear and anxiety replaced with a forged tranquility—and sighs. There’s a strange man in his apartment comforting him, touching him, but he feels safer than he has in the past year; it doesn’t make much sense. Perhaps it’s because he’s been alone for so long, sleeping around and going to parties where no one knows his name—much less cares. His family don’t contact him anymore, not even after he called his mother to inform her about his exocrine tumors, and then called again a week later begging for support.

“I don’t want to die.” Sehun whispers, suddenly loud in the empty apartment, and Junmyeon nods understandingly.

Trying to look into the younger’s eyes poses a challenge as he has his chin tilted down so Junmyeon taps the leather-clad skin beneath his hand to draw Sehun’s attention.

“Of course you don’t,” The demon murmurs, withdrawing the radiating calm back into his hand as his voice becomes layered with genuine sympathy and something more convincing, “That’s why I’m here. I can help.”

“But how? They all told me there was no chance, that it was too late.”

“I am very powerful.”

The human is leaning into Junmyeon now, looking down from his perch on the countertop with wide, hopeful eyes, and the greedy side of Junmyeon gleefully registers that Sehun has fallen. The realization has his teeth sharpening automatically, an animalistic urge building to finalize his claim, but for some reason he doesn’t want to terrify the boy so Junmyeon pulls his lips to cover the canines.

“That doesn’t explain much,” Sehun mumbles and winces as a deep throbbing begins in the base of his spine.

Junmyeon sighs. He’s not worried about exposing himself as a demon but it may scare Sehun away even as a new invisible thread begins forming, creating a weaker presents than the one he currently feels with Yifan.

“I’m a demon and I can save you—heal you.”

The mortal doesn’t pull away but his features morph into surprise as he echoes, “Demon?” in a quiet voice.

“I’ll give you more than just your health, if you accept. You’ll have immortality as well, invincible to diseases, money, power, anything your heart desires.”

“And what do you get?” Sehun asks uneasily, studying Junmyeon’s face.

“Well,” The demon edges, trying to find the right words but decides it’s just best to say everything, “You, your soul, will be mine. After you accept and I bring you through the transformation you’ll be sired to me. You’ll do as I say even if you don’t want to and if you refuse for too long it’ll start causing you agony. For the first months you won’t want to be separated from me but after that the urge to always be with me will slowly weaken into a slight pull, in a few years you will barely notice it.”

Junmyeon expects the next question but unlike what he rehearsed for occasions like this, the answer doesn’t quite fit.

“Why me?”

It’s with fondness that the shorter brings up a finger to trace Sehun’s jaw, even if the latter flinches slightly. “You remind me a lot of myself when I was human.”

“Miserable and dying?” Sehun tries to joke in a weak voice but his forced smile falls when Junmyeon nods.

“But you’re evil, shouldn’t you be enjoying watching me suffer?”

“In theory. But not all distress brings happiness to me.”

“Just certain kinds?”

“Like all things.”

“I can’t be evil.”

“Not all demons are evil,” Junmyeon reminds patiently, waiting for the right moment to seal the deal.

“I’ll be your slave.”

“You’ll be more of a pet,” The demon grins briefly but stops when Sehun spots his fangs, “It’s a two-way street. You’ll want my attention and I’ll want to give it to you. I’ll be almost as vulnerable to you as you are to me.”

Sehun doesn’t ask any more questions after that, staring off into space as his mind races through all the information. For once Junmyeon can wait.

He takes the opportunity to mentally praise the man, toy thoughtfully with the hem of the tight, black shirt. Sehun is very thin, the shirt showing off his ribs, and wrists bony. It’s due to his illness and Junmyeon wonders excitedly how his newest addition will look when he’s healthy and not sporting the yellowness of disease.

“If I say no will you kill me?” The question is almost a whisper.

Junmyeon pauses for a moment, he hadn’t considered the human declining—since the bond has strengthened considerably—but he decides he wouldn’t be able to end Sehun’s life himself, he voices this aloud.

“Okay,” A shaky breath, “I’ll do it. You can have my soul.”

The demon’s smile is blinding even in the low light and Junmyeon teeth grow another centimeter, poking into his lips uncomfortably. The rush of success floods through him and he pulls Sehun off the counter by a strong grip on his hand, dragging him until Junmyeon can push the younger to sit on the mattress.

Sehun looks around flustered and begins forming a question before Junmyeon cuts him off, “This will be more comfortable instead of doing it in the kitchen.” And then his eyes change from brown to glowing red until a second later they’re flooded with black, swallowing the iris and whites.

Trying to be gentle isn’t easy when it’s teeth ripping through flesh but Junmyeon does the best he can at first, waiting until Sehun tries to pull him closer, moaning, before truly indulging. The blood is bitter from Sehun’s ailment but the brightness of the human’s soul is sweeter and overpowers it.

Crimson trickles from the seams of Junmyeon’s mouth when he pulls away, licking them clean and biting a large gash in his own wrist. Even unfocused from loss of blood, Sehun grimaces when he the demon’s bleeding wrist comes into view and presses against his mouth. He has to urge the younger to keep going as he pulls away to sputter, drops of dark purple coating the back of his hand as he coughs.

As soon as the ratio of demon to human blood reaches an unbalanced capacity, Sehun falls completely unconscious. Like the first time, Junmyeon simply breaks the human’s neck and a flood of emotions pass through him as their souls meld together.

 

~~~

 

No sounds are made as Junmyeon awkwardly carries Sehun’s unconscious body through granite halls. He’s not heavy but his height is cumbersome and Junmyeon tries hurrying without dropping him, annoyed with himself once again about his _no_ _teleportation in the castle_ rule that includes the owner himself.

Yifan had been waiting for Junmyeon’s return and didn’t think twice while complaining that he had been “replaced.” The whining irritated the shorter to the point where he ordered Yifan away, sending him to Earth to wait out his tantrum. He felt oddly guilty afterward but it’ll be much easier to help accommodate Sehun to his new life without the stress of the two new demons fighting for his attention.

Black and maroon furnishing greet Junmyeon as he settles Sehun’s body onto the dark satin sheets of the bed. The room is one of many that are housed in the palace, all decorated due to Junmyeon’s various and always changing preferences.

The boy should awaken any moment; the transition doesn’t take long and his skin has already lost the pasty yellow sheen of sickness, gaining a healthy pinkish glow. The bloody imprints of Junmyeon’s teeth in Sehun’s throat have healed over, leaving behind no blemish.

Sitting in an arm chair by the unused fireplace, Junmyeon’s vision focuses when red eyes open across the room.

Sehun props himself up on a hand and peers curiously around, taking everything in quickly and settling on Junmyeon. A wide grin takes over his small mouth—pulling full lips over fangs in an attractive smile—and Junmyeon senses shy joy through their connection.

Freely the older stands, following his own desire as well as Sehun’s, and glides to the edge of the bed, running a hand through Sehun’s midnight hair. The latter leans into the touch automatically and mumbles something Junmyeon doesn’t catch.

“Hyung,” Sehun tries again, the term of closeness making Junmyeon smile, “did you hear me?”

Junmyeon hums in response and shakes his head, continuing the petting.

“Shouldn’t we know each other’s names?” The boy asks innocently, grabbing and slotting his fingers through Junmyeon’s own as the older goes to pull away.

It occurs to Junmyeon that he had once again forgone introductions—as the same with Yifan, who had also not been able to give his name before forfeiting his soul—and he brings Sehun’s hand to his lips to kiss the back indulgently. “Of course. What is your name?” He plays along, cocking his head in false curiosity.

“Oh Sehun,”

Junmyeon nods and moves to kiss Sehun’s wrist, enjoying the slight yearning that pulses through the younger in reaction. “My given name is Kim Junmyeon but,” the demon says, gaze serious, “You will call me Master.”

At the term, Sehun flushes and his eyes widen, “Master?” Is the wavering response followed by a nervous chuckle, “That’s a bit…”

The shorter grins at the connotations the word carries; when Junmyeon had first been taken it was an automatic response to address his Master as such, as was the time period. Now though, humans have come to make it sexual in most instances and Sehun is embarrassedly trying to avoid Junmyeon’s eyes even, if the new demon trembles minutely under his touch with want.

“You’ll get used to it, I promise.” Junmyeon assures, using his free hand to brush Sehun’s inky fringe away from his eyes.

The orbs widen further and Sehun’s breathing stutters.

The difference between Sehun and Yifan is refreshing.

Yifan is older and demanding, used to getting what he wanted, and taking advantage of Junmyeon’s need to make the former feel as comfortable as possible, even if it includes dropping important work for sex or coddling. As soon as the man had awoken from his transformation he had jumped Junmyeon and used his new found strength to gain the upper hand while fucking his Master. Junmyeon had allowed it of course—his lust matching that of his servant—and used light taunts to rile Yifan further.

Sehun is almost the exact opposite. His longing and need for Junmyeon is the same but he’s young and shy. The behavior strange since the night their deal was finalized Junmyeon was positive the boy had smelled like sex when he returned from whatever club or bar he had come from but perhaps this is Sehun’s true personality. The elder doesn’t exactly mind the shyness—it would be fun flustering Sehun—but he didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

So instead of sealing his lips over his servant’s, Junmyeon settles on the edge of the bed with the gentlest smile he can manage. “So how do you feel?”

The corners of Sehun’s mouth upturn in delight, “I thought you were tricking me at first but now… I feel great.”

“I’m glad. Is there anything else you want, Sehun-ah?” Junmyeon asks, voice sweet and thumb stroking Sehun’s hand enticingly.

It would be a lie to say Junmyeon doesn’t want him but Sehun isn’t human anymore and they’re equals—almost—so he will not force the boy to do anything he doesn’t ask for. However, Junmyeon can sense the growing desire and it only serves to fuel his own hunger.

“Like what?”

The sound Sehun makes as Junmyeon traces a vein in his arm teasingly shows that he knows exactly _what_ , even if he’s too busy avoiding Junmyeon’s eyes to answer properly.

“It could be anything, tell me, anything you want.”

Fire burns at the same rate embarrassment does under the boy’s skin, “Anything?”

“Anything.” Junmyeon confirms and finally when their gazes meet he knows his eyes are closer to black than maroon now, shining in promise.

Seconds pass before Sehun’s own irises turn to coal, expanding as he gets an idea. “Will you bite me again, like before?”

The request is husky and as soon as it’s spoken Sehun looks away, staring intently at the dark walls, lust running through his body and drenching his eyes in complete shadow.

It’s the only prompting Junmyeon needs to press his lips to the inside of Sehun’s wrist, sucking a bruise there that draws a short gasp from the boy.

Junmyeon isn’t gentle this time; sinking his extended fangs into the now-tougher flesh of Sehun’s wrist, he doesn’t stop until purple runs from the wound onto the bed sheets.

Watching his Master move down his arm with half-lidded eyes Sehun’s gasps turn to moans quickly. The pleasure is more intense than when he was human and then it had been over too fast for him to truly enjoy it. Now each bite leaves behind spikes of electricity and pain running along his spine and into his groin, increasing when Junmyeon drags his bloody tongue over the ragged edges of his marks.

Junmyeon drops Sehun’s arm and settles a half crazed glance on the younger demon’s cock bulging beneath his tight leather pants with a smirk. As Junmyeon moves to hover over him, Sehun drops onto his back, breath still coming in puffs.

“That’s not all you wanted?” Junmyeon teases in a dangerously low voice, settling himself on Sehun’s torso.

The latter shakes his head quickly, unabashed now.

“Good.” The elder murmurs, grasping the fabric of Sehun’s shirt and ripping it away, exposing an expanse of milky skin.

Sharp nails taunt one of Sehun’s hardened nipples while with the other hand Junmyeon reaches behind himself to stroke Sehun’s hard shaft through the leather. The younger is whining from the stimulation, thrusting into Junmyeon’s palm even if it’s rubbing his dick raw and simultaneously trying to get away from the fingers tweaking his buds.

Junmyeon leans to grind his own erection into Sehun’s stomach, grinning devilishly when it pulls another moan, and crashes his lips into Sehun’s own.

Withdrawing his tongue from the moaning boy’s mouth, Junmyeon sits up and rids himself of his shirt, throwing it to the ground with the remnants of Sehun’s own.

Sehun spit shined lips follow after he takes a moment to admire his Master’s physique, tearing his gaze from rippling abdominal muscles to dive in for another kiss. His own fangs break through his bottom lip when he bites down as Junmyeon frees him from the maddening leather.

Junmyeon licks the purple trails away and nips his own small cuts into Sehun’s swollen mouth before kicking the rest of his clothes down his legs and onto the growing pile on the floor. Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, the elder sinks down, engulfing Sehun’s hard cock in tight heat.

The latter gasps and throws his head back—exposing his pale neck—and his teeth glinting as he keens. However when Junmyeon goes to move strong hands are gripping his waist, keeping his ass firmly planted against Sehun’s hips.

“No-wait,” Sehun gasps, wide black eyes staring holes into Junmyeon’s identical ones. “Other way,” He moans, “I want you to fuck me.”

Though the request surprises the shorter, it doesn’t stop him from smirking and slowly pulling himself off Sehun’s dick, being sure to ease the last few inches out teasingly.

Sehun’s cock is angry red from the raw friction and a bubble of precum forms on the head when Junmyeon strokes the shaft. A sideways glance shows him that Sehun’s arm is almost healed, the bites being reduced to blemishes and Junmyeon wants to leave more.

Summoning a bottle of lube and coating three digits, Junmyeon drops to sink his teeth into Sehun’s right thigh. One of the deepest sounds Junmyeon has ever heard rips out of Sehun’s throat the same instant Junmyeon plunges two fingers through the tight ring of muscles.

He picks up speed and basks in the noises the younger makes, licking a saliva coated tongue just under the swollen head and over to Sehun’s other thigh, marking it in the same fashion.

In minutes Sehun is panting, fucking himself back and whining that he’s going to come. Instead of pulling away, Junmyeon’s mouth engulfs Sehun’s pulsating dick and takes him in until the tip is rubbing the back of his throat while his slim fingers press insistently against the boy’s prostate.

 Sehun comes with a cry. Bowing of the bed as one of his hands pull Junmyeon’s hair, keeping him in place as bitter cum runs down his abused throat. The elder doesn’t mind—suckling and dragging a pointed tooth down Sehun’s sensitive and softening cock—enjoying the feeling of euphoria washing through their bond even if he’s still painfully hard himself.

Looking up, Junmyeon meets misty eyes and he grins as he thrusts his fingers deeper into Sehun’s puffy, slick hole. He withdraws when his servant mewls a borderline pathetic, “No,” Sehun trying to stop his Master as the oversensitivity racks his body in shivers.

“We’re not done yet baby.” Junmyeon murmurs into Sehun’s ear before licking passed the latter’s lips once again and tangling their tongues languidly, grinding his erection against Sehun’s already half hard cock.

“That’s it.” The demon praises when Sehun moans at the taste of himself and his hips twitch up.

Extracting himself, Junmyeon sits back to slip three fingers passed Sehun’s slippery rim, dribbling more lube between Sehun’s cheeks as he scissors him loose.

Sehun’s moans are breathy now, tired as he watches Junmyeon intensely finger him, his Master completely focused; dark, messy hair framing his serious but handsome face.

When Junmyeon decides Sehun is well prepared, he presses the younger’s legs back so his knees meet his chest and he’s presented for Junmyeon’s taking.

 _He’s so cute like this._ Junmyeon thinks in a moment of affection as he sinks in, thick dick splitting and dragging against Sehun’s walls.

Their grunts and sighs mingle in the hot air, Junmyeon angling each harsh thrust so it hits Sehun’s prostate head on. He knows when the boy is close when the latter bears his throat again, groan cut off sharply as Junmyeon drives into him.

With one final bite ripping through the junction between his neck and shoulder, Sehun spurts weakly onto his chest, Junmyeon not far behind and painting the younger man’s insides white.

The latter drops off into sleep as soon as Junmyeon presses a small kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Junmyeon rolls of the bed and cleans them both with a wet cloth he summons, the whole time gazing fondly at the sleeping lump he then covers with a clean blanket.

Sehun will be asleep for a while, his body and mind adjusting to his new demon physique and recent activities playing into the need. It gives Junmyeon enough time to tend to other things he had put off while pursuing the younger while he was still human. It’ll also give him some much needed alone time before Sehun wakes up and wants attention again, not that he minds so much.

Junmyeon’s thoughts soon go to Yifan and he settles for having his other servant return when Sehun has gotten down the basics of being a demon. It won’t take long but he still worries for his other spawn, the thin emotional connection not dense enough between dimensions to make out anything clearly.

The absence will give Junmyeon just enough time to train Sehun and prepare for his next target. He smiles slightly at his achievements thus far, proud of himself but also happy in a way he hasn’t been in a long while.

Two down.

Nine to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Happy birthday Sehunnie~  
> *Aye chapter two, we get a little more backstory about Junmyeon!  
> *Thank you for reading! :D  
> *(I may have gotten carried away with this, I'm sorry xD)  
> *(They're my biggest otp)  
> *Also getting to see a caring side to Demon Junnie~ awh  
> *You can talk to me on Tumblr too -> http://supervium.tumblr.com/  
> *Comments, kudos, and criticisms are always welcome!  
> \---(Update 6/5/2016: I know the third chapter is taking a WICKED long time :( I'm sorry. I graduate in a week and after finals I promise, promise, promise to finish and release it asap. I'm sorry for such a long wait.---


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